Resurrection
by paisleyluv96
Summary: Jason Todd's story of returning from the grave, and his search to uncover the reason why. Rated T for Jason's mouth. Dick, Jay, Tim, Dami, Bruce, and Alfred. Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, Y'all! So, I finally decided to do a story on Jason Todd. I love that kid so much, I felt so bad that I didn't have a story about him...**

**I don't own jack squat except the story line. This was supposed to be a oneshot...but I failed miserably at compressing all of this...so now I have to update ****_another _****story... I'll try to keep up with 'em.**

The first thing I noticed was that my skin was crawling. That's all I could feel. In my clothes, in my mouth, under my nails and eyelids, between my fingers and toes, everywhere.

The second thing I noticed was the pain in my body and the pounding in my head.

"Oh…What the fuck?" I asked. My voice was hoarse, and my throat was sore. I reached over to knock the disgusting bugs off me. My hand touched something soft as I reached up. It felt like a pillow right above me. I lifted my other hand and pushed as hard as I could, ignoring the bugs and the pain. Surely I wasn't where I thought I was…right? I tried to open my eyes, only to find they were already open. It was pitch black in my prison. I pushed harder, not feeling anything give way under the pressure.

"The hell? HEY!" I screamed as I pushed on the soft pillow. "Help! Let me out! Batman!"

I clawed at the soft covering viciously. Blood pumped through my veins, adrenaline drove me through the pain. I felt blood seep through the ends of my fingers and slip down my arm, soaking into the sleeve there. I pulled my knees up and pushed as hard as I could with my sore legs. It seemed a futile attempt. Whoever the hell locked me up in the god forsaken box was going to be so sorry for messing with me. The bastards would pay for this! My nails chipped away as I clawed through the wood. I felt the wood give way as small chips lodged themselves under my mutilated nails and in my knuckles. I pounded as hard as I could, knowing I would never be able to break through. I lowered my hands, ignoring the pain. I had to get myself together. Think…where was I? I was in a small box that was lined with soft pillows…odd. I felt around my body…was I wearing a suit? God damn…I reached up and loosened the tie around my neck. What kind of sick joke was this? Was I…in a coffin?! Panic set in as the realization hit me. What else could it be? Hell, my head was even on a pillow. So…what about the bugs? Locking me in a coffin wasn't enough? I felt each pocket, looking for something-anything- that would get me out of here so I could kick some ass. I reached to the left and found a stiff piece of paper. Fantastic. I had 8 pockets, and I only had some paper.

"Ahhg! What the fuck?" I mumbled to myself as I checked my pockets again. Nothing.

"BATMAN!" I screamed as I pounded on the lid of the coffin. "HELP ME! PLEASE! BRUCE!" I screamed. I knew no one could hear me though. It was pointless.

_'Ok, Todd. Take a deep breath. It's ok…just think your way out of this…'_

I reached across and noticed I was wearing a belt and quickly unlatched it, sliding it out from around my waste. It was my favorite belt…Bruce bought it for me a few years ago. I liked the buckle on it. It was thick, heavy metal. Perfect. I set to work scraping the wood as hard as I could before hacking at it with an intensity I didn't know I had. I was struggling to breathe as the air grew thick with my body heat and over exertion. Sweat poured off my forehead, dripping into my eyes and soaking my hair. I kept going.

"Come on, Batsy. Any day now…" I muttered impatiently as the metal met wood, creating a dull sound.

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

"Feel free to rush in a save the day any minute now." I growled.

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

"AHHH! You bastards are going to fucking pay for this!" I screamed.

_Clunk!_

_Clunk!_

_Thud! _The sound changed. I was getting through!

_Thud!_

_Thud!_

_Thud!_

_Poff! _I closed my eyes as something cold and grainy fell into my face and into my mouth.

"What the fuck? Is this-Is this dirt? YOU FUCKING BASTARDS BURIED ME?!" I screamed as I began pulling away more of the coffin lid and digging through hard dirt. The wood groaned under the pressure, and my fingers screamed at the pain. I pulled my torso up and through the ragged hole I'd made. It was a tight fit, but I was thin enough to make it. I kept digging, never pausing as I did so, until I felt hard earth turn damp. I was blinded by dirt and mud, I couldn't breathe, and the only thing I could hear was my own blood rushing through my ears. I kept going until I was digging through mud. My left hand reached through the earth and was blasted by cold air and water. I reached up and widened the hole I'd made in the dirt, managing to get my other hand through into the cool air. I pushed against the walls of my earthen cage and pulled my body up. I took gasping breathes of air as my head emerged. I opened my eyes and looked into the night time sky that was covered in clouds that were lit up by the hidden moon. The rain showered my face, rinsing off the mud and blood that had been caked on. I pulled the rest of my body out and collapsed on the grass. The rain was relentless as it poured down on me. I panted as I lay there covered in dirt and bugs.

After a while, I sat up, ready to get the damn things off of me. I ran a hand through my soaked hair and pulled the tie out from around my neck. I shed my jacket but couldn't get the shirt's buttons unfastened. I cringed as the bugs continued to crawl around on my skin. I tried to ignore them and instead kicked off my shiny shoes and pulled off my socks. Finally, I pulled off my pants and cleaned the bugs off of my skin before sliding them back on. It was absolutely revolting. These idiots, whoever they were, had buried me in a damn monkey suit, in a coffin, underground in the rain with maggots. If this was some kind of sick joke…I swear to god, someone would die. I bet Damian did this, the little bastard. He would. I never liked that kid. Tim probably helped, the jack ass. I looked down at the hole in the dirt, knowing for a fact I would shove both of them down there and plant a boulder on top of it. I stood up shakily, tired from my dig and looked around, leaning on a tree as I did so. I could see Wayne Manor in the distance. Ready to get back home, I pushed off the tree and took a step forward. My head spun with pain, my vision went black around the edges and I saw stars flash in front of me. I watched the lights of the manor become a blur as I fell to the ground.

_Pain. That's all I understood at that moment. I was in unimaginable pain. I grunted, trying not to show weakness as the madman sent the crow bar into my ribs._

_"Wow. That looked like it really hurt." He said as he hit me again. _

_Pain…  
>"Whoa, now, hang on. That looked like it hurt a lot more." He said as he circled me, gently allowing the crowbar to bounce in his gloved hand. "So let's try and clear this up, okay, pumpkin?" He asked. Only one person had ever called me that. This idiot was not her. How dare he?<br>"What hurts more? A?" He asked as the crow bar violently made contact with my shoulder._

_"Or B?" He hit me in the spine. I felt my vertebrae pop. It was just pain…at least I knew I was still alive, even it was only just.  
>"Forehand?" He hit me again. Pain…don't think about the pain…Batman's on his way. He'll be here any-<br>"or backhand?" I let out a whimper of pain as he hit me in the head, sending my forehead crashing into the concrete. I felt tears trying to betray me. I left my eyes open, hoping the air would send them away. It wasn't easy as he stepped away for a glorious moment, cackling like the demented bastard he is. I looked up at him._

_"You fucking bastard…" was all I managed to get out. The Joker smiled his vicious smile as he dropped to his knees in front of me. He grabbed my hair tightly in his fist and lifted my head up to his face.  
>"Ah-Heh-hu…A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory."<em>

_Bastard. Using what little spitfire I had left, I worked up the saliva and blood in my mouth and spat on his hideous face, staining his stupid white makeup with blood. He let out a grunt and smashed my head into the concrete floor._

_"Now, that was rude. The first boy blunder had some manners. I suppose I'm going to have  
>to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps." He said thoughtfully. He turned his demented eyes on me with an evil smile. "Nah. I'm just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar." He laughed his awful laugh and planted a foot between my shoulder blades roughly. "You've been a bad boy. You must be punished! Prepare yourself for a severe spanking, young man!" I took a glorious moment to dissect that…a spanking? What the hell?<em>

_"But let me tell you right from the start: This is going to hurt you a lot more that it does me!"_

_ He cackled as he beat at me relentlessly. The pain was unreal. Hurry, Batman. Now, of all times, when I need you…why aren't you here for me? I gave up on resistance a while ago. My hands were tied, my leg was broken, I couldn't breathe and I could feel the concussion. I wasn't going anywhere. All I could do was give into the pain. Accept it, and know that Batman wasn't going to make it. I was going to die by the hands of the mother fucker standing over me with a crowbar, beating the life out of me. The pain was the master over the will. I knew I shouldn't let him know it hurt, but I couldn't help it anymore. Batman wasn't going to make it….I knew it. What did I ever do to deserve this? Why had Batman given up on me…I knew he never cared. The little shit. So, I endured it the end. Darkness clouded my vision as the Joker beat me to death. I knew my time had come, and I accepted it. I found myself wanting the end. At least then I would get out of this world of pain. I was so disappointed when The Joker didn't finish what he'd started.  
>"Okay, kiddo, I gotta go. It's been fun though, right? Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me<br>than you, I'm just guessing since you're being awful quiet. Anyway, be a good boy, finish your homework and be in bed by 9. And, hey...please tell the big man I said, 'Hello.'" And with that, the fucker closed the door behind him, cackling as he did so. I listened until I couldn't hear him anymore. It was over…Maybe I still had a chance… I opened my eyes and saw the door that would lead to my freedom…to Batman. To home. I took as deep a breath as I could muster and drew myself up, sliding my hands over my butt and feet to bring my cuffed hands in front of me. I slowly pushed myself to my feet and took a step forward. My broken leg gave way as I tried to put pressure on it and I fell to the floor with a grunt._

_Come on, Todd. Don't be such a pussy. I coaxed myself. So I couldn't walk. I didn't need to. I started out crawling, so I guessed that's how I would end. I crawled miserably to the door and reached up to the handle. It was locked. _

_'Ok…so…I'll just wait for Batman. He'll be here any minute…so he won't catch the Joker…but it's cool. We'll get him later…' I though. I leaned against the door and stared into the darkness. There was a digital clock sitting on some crates against the opposite wall. There was something seriously wrong with it though, because it was counting backwards way too fast. _

_'Weird." I thought as I watched it._

_20_

_19_

_18_

_17…_

_16 _

_I watched it…I knew it wasn't right…._

_15_

_14_

_13_

_12_

_11… _

_It kinda reminded me of something familiar… A timer…or something…_

_10_

_9_

_8…_

_7_

_6 _

_'Bomb.' I thought. And I knew I was right. I looked to the woman standing near the door. My mother…I had to keep her safe. I drug myself over and covered the bomb with my mutilated body. Maybe it will stop the blast from getting to her._

_5…_

_4_

_3_

_'Well, damn.'_

_2_

_1_

_"Shit." I said as I watched the clock go down._

_"JASON!"_

_The last thing I saw was a flashing red 0. _

**Alright, y'all. What'd ya think? I promise it'll be way more interesting in the future. If you love Jason, leave me a review. If you like what I've got so far, leave me a review. If you don't like what I've got so far, leave me a review. If you have suggestions, leave me a review. If you don't have suggestions, leave me a review...in truth, I just love reviews!**

**Y'all have a great day, and happy Halloween! Please be careful in your holiday endeavors, and be sure to smile at everyone. Even if they can't see your face, they can hear a smile in your voice. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**New chapter! I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I'll be updating frequently. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it!**

Chapter 2

My eyes shot open before it went off. I looked around in panic as the memory came flooding back to me. The realization hit me like-well, a crow bar.

_'I died. I died and they buried me…I'm…I'm in a graveyard. I just fucking dug myself out of my own grave…that…that's my headstone.' _I thought as I looked back to where I had just come from. I pushed myself up and moved over to it. I ran a finger over the letters of my name…I had died. So what the hell was I doing alive? I looked back to the Manor. It was silhouetted against the night sky. The rain still fell and wind still howled. I was cold and hungry, I was in pain and my head was pounding against my temples. I needed to get home…I was…I was afraid. I tore away from my headstone and moved as fast as I could, which wasn't much more than a glorified limp.

I hobbled out of the Wayne family cemetery and up the gray stone walkway to the Manor. I scaled the fence on the east side of the property and walked slowly the rest of the way to the house. As soon as my feet touched the ground inside the fence, I heard a distant alarm go off inside the house. I watched as lights flooded the manor through the window. I didn't care. I made it to the front walkway, but was still a long way away from the house. I saw the front door open and a silhouetted figure standing there. I couldn't tell who it was from the distance I was at, but I knew that whoever it was wouldn't be able to see me in the dark as I was wearing a dark suit. I continued my slow walk. I was tired and out of breath…I was weak. Why the hell was I weak? How long had I been dead? I heard voices that I recognized well.

"Should I call the police, sir?" I heard the accented voice of the old butler. Alfred…He'd have a cow when he saw me covered in mud and walking up the walkway like a zombie.

"No. He's probably gone by now." Came the voice of the man of the house. Bruce Wayne himself, my father. My savior…I needed to get to him. "Tim…see anything on the surveillance?" He asked. I waited for the voice I knew would follow as I hobbled up the walkway.

"Yeah…I think…I think I see someone coming up the walkway…But I'm not sure. It's too dark." Tim replied.

"I'll look, Father. Pennyworth, bring me my sword." Came the annoying voice of the demon. Damian Wayne. Ha. The little shit.

"Chill out, Damian. You're not going anywhere." I heard the voice of the acrobat. Dick was there too….he was supposed to be in Bludhaven. What was he doing here?

I continued my walk, speeding up ever so slightly. After my long, torturous night, I was so glad to see them.

"Show yourself, coward, or face the wrath of my sword!" Damian screamed. He was such an idiot. And I was no coward.

"I see him, Bruce." Tim said. I could see all five of them standing in the light.

"I, too, see him, Master Bruce."

They had all dropped to a whisper.

"I'll get him…" Damian muttered. I saw someone grab his shoulder and pull him back inside. They all stepped back hurriedly and shut the door. My heart sank. Why were they running away? Why were they leaving me? I walked heavily the rest of the way to the door. I could see someone peering through the window, but I couldn't tell who it was. I contemplated just walking through, but for some reason, I knocked instead. I waited a moment, but there was no answer, so I knocked again.

"Just open it." Came a muffled voice from behind the door. A moment later, a thin beam of light slipped onto the porch as Alfred showed himself.

"How may I help you?" He asked pleasantly. He squinted into the night trying to make out my features.

I never thought I'd be happier to see the old butler. I couldn't make my lips form words though, and I knew I'd probably be attacked, but nonetheless, I drug myself in without a word. I just wanted in out of the cold, I needed food and water…A hot shower and some clean clothes. I needed to go to sleep. I was so tired. I was so confused. I saw Dick to my left holding a metal rod, Bruce was next to him with something that looked like it belonged next to a fire place. Damian and Tim were standing near the couch armed with other various household weapons. Damian had a butcher knife, and Tim held a decorative sword from the wall. I stepped into the light and barley missed Dick's swipe at me.

I turned to face the five men without a word.

"Good heavens…" Alfred said as he took in my appearance.

"Leave this residence now, or face the wrath of Damian Al Ghul Wayne!" Damian shouted. I looked at each of them in turn. They all looked at me like I was a total stranger. I was afraid…Not of them, but because they all looked afraid of me. I turned around and looked in the mirror on the wall. What I saw there took my breath away. I looked like…well…death, no wonder they looked afraid. My hair was all matted with mud. I saw a white streak in the front. My face was covered in cuts, mud and blood, not to mention there was a shadow of stubble along my cheeks. I was soaked from the rain, and my formally white dress shirt was soaked with mud and grass. My coat was torn and also looked a wreck. I could still see some of the bugs crawling around in my hair and on my clothes. I looked down. I wasn't wearing shoes or socks, and my pants were torn and bloody. I looked at my fingers in the light. My nails were gone and I had wooded splinters sticking in my skin. My hands were coated in blood and dirt. They were shaking uncontrollably, from cold or fear, I couldn't tell. I turned back to everyone. No one had moved from their place, but they all looked thoroughly disgruntled.

"Get out of my house." Bruce growled as he took a menacing step forward. I stepped back in turn, wrapping my arms around myself and trying to find my voice, but nothing came out.

Dick held out a hand and pulled Bruce back, looking at me with pain filled eyes.

"No way." He whispered as he dropped his makeshift weapon and stepped up to me carefully his eyes darted around taking in every detail of my face. I didn't move as he reached a hand up to my face and swiped my hair out of my face and gently slid his thumb over a cut on my right eye brow.

"Are you crazy, Grayson?" Damian asked.

"Shut up." He said without taking his eyes off of mine. I couldn't take it anymore. I fell into his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. Dick caught me, and we both fell to our knees. I fucking broke down right there in front of everyone. My brothers and my father…I was a total wreck.

"What on earth is going on?" Alfred asked exasperated as he shut the door.

The others put their weapons down and watched us.

"Jason…What the hell?" Dick asked. He pulled me gently to my feet, I was grateful for it; I was too weak to stand on my own.

"Jason? Look at me." Dick said gently. I wiped the tears from my eyes and raised my head up to him strongly.

"Holy Hell. It is you." He whispered.

"Who the hell did you think it was?" I asked in attempts to bring back some of the dignity I had lost.

"Todd?"

"You bastard!" Tim yelled as he dropped his sword and lunged at me. I didn't even bother defending myself. I knew I couldn't anyway, so why bother? He sent a punch to my jaw as we rolled around on the floor. I was too weak to fight back, so I just rolled with the punches as they came to me.

"Tim! Stop! What the hell are you doing!?" Dick yelled as he tried to pry Tim off of me. Bruce came to his aid, and together they managed to pull the strong young man off of me. Was he always that strong?

"How dare you!" He yelled. "You bastard! How could you do this to us, you dirty hobo?" He screamed at me.

"What?" I asked in genuine confusion.

"Who the hell are you?! And what the hell makes you think you can walk in here like this and screw with us! Who the fucking hell are you?!" He screamed as he thrashed about in Dick and Bruce's arms.

"I don't uh…" I mumbled quietly.

"You're an imposter who came here mess with us! How dare you! After everything we've been through! You filthy street rat!" Damian yelled at me as he held Tim's sword to my throat, "Get. Out." He said darkly.

"Guys, stop it! Leave him alone." Dick said as he walked over to me and helped me up off the floor again. I rubbed my jaw where Tim had hit me and pulled away from Dick, turning my attention instead on the kind old butler.

"Alfred. Could I please have some water?" I croaked as I looked at him earnestly.

He hesitated before walking off cautiously. There was an awkward silence as we stood around. I avoided the death glares of the two youngest in the room.

"Dick…Help me….I can't undo the buttons." I said meekly as I gestured to my filthy shirt. I wanted more than anything to get it off. Dick stepped up and swiftly unfastened the buttons and helped me out of the shirt. I looked down as larva fell off my body and onto the oriental carpet. There was a sharp intake of breath from Bruce as he stepped up to me, leaving Tim behind him. He placed a finger on my chest near my shoulder and ran his finger down a scar all the way to my bellybutton. I turned to the mirror and saw what he was looking at. A pale white scar in the shape of a Y graced my chest and torso.

An autopsy scar. Only dead people got those…I really had died…and that right there was enough to scare the hell out of me. There were other scars too. Some I remembered, and some that looked like the end of a…a crow bar. Burn scars snaked across my chest and over my arm from the explosion. The wounds had healed…but how? My left arm was thin, like it had never been used. The muscle had deteriorated to near nothing, it resembled the arm of a young child. My right arm looked as it always had save for the scars put there by the crow bar. I had been dead, apparently…dead people don't heal. I shuddered at the memory, ashamed that I thought Damian and Tim had buried me like that. I turned back to the men in the room just as Alfred walked in carrying a tray of water and bread. Oh how I loved bread. His eyes were wide as he placed the tray on the table under the mirror. I smiled at him thankfully as he stepped back cautiously. I reached for the glass of water. It was very awkward as I stood there and drank it down noisily with everyone watching in shocked silence. I set the empty glass down on the tray and picked up the bread, shoving it in my mouth like a heathen. I swallowed it, grateful to have something in my very empty stomach.

"What happened to your arm?!" Tim asked in shock, seeming to forget about not knowing me for the moment.

I shrugged as I tested it by lifting it up and down. It hurt, and it was a hell of a lot more difficult than I had thought it would be. I had no strength in that arm.

"Todd?" Damian asked.

I looked at him a moment before answering.

"What?"

"You're supposed to be dead."

"I know."

"This has to be a dream…" Tim muttered.

"It's not." Dick said as he smiled at me, "this is too real. You're back…You're really back."

"This is impossible." Bruce said.

I shrugged. "Look…can I please…just go lie down?"

"Absolutely not." Alfred said sternly. "There is no way you are lying in a bed like that."

"If I take a shower…can I?" I asked. I sounded like a little kid begging for a cookie before dinner.

He gave a jerky nod.

"Do you have any injuries?" Bruce asked. I could tell he wasn't convinced it was really me. He didn't trust me. Not like he ever really did, but this was different. He wanted to believe it was me, but logic convinced him otherwise.

"Honestly…I don't know. My hands are….mutilated." I said as I showed him my fingers covered in blood and splinters. Bruce walked up to me and took my left hand in his to inspect it.

"Who are you and where did you come from?" he asked seriously, "What the hell happened to you?"

"It's me, Bruce. It's Jason….I just fucking dug myself out of my grave…The Joker…he killed me, didn't he?" I said the last part absently. "He blew me to hell." I said quietly as I pulled my hand away.

"To hell and back is more like it." Tim said. I cracked a smile.

"Yeah." I said as I turned and made my way to the grand stair case. I knew exactly where I was going. I needed to take a shower…I needed to get this death robe off of my body.

"Who is that?" Alfred asked. I scoffed. They still didn't believe me…

"I don't know, Alfred. But I intend to find out."

"Are we just going to let this guy walk through our house like that?" I heard Damian ask.

"No. Dick, watch him." Bruce ordered.

"It's Jason, Bruce. It has to be." Dick mumbled hopefully as he ran up the stairs to me.

"Come on." He said as he came up beside me. "I think there's some clothes that might still fit you." He said as we walked down the familiar hallway to my bedroom. It was just as I'd left it. Minus all the crap in the floor, and the bed was made, the carpet was vacuumed, all of the drawers were closed, and everything was neat. Alfred must have attacked it. How was I ever going to find anything? My posters were still up, though. And my desk with my computer, my dresser still had everything on it. It was only missing one thing, however. There was a small picture of me and my parents that I had sitting on the mirror….it was gone. That was my favorite picture…and it was gone. Dick rummaged through my drawers and pulled out a black tee shirt, some boxers and black sweat pants for me. He handed them to me and ushered me to my bathroom. I stepped into the crystal clean room and looked up. I never really noticed the chandelier in there before…Why was I acting so melancholy about this? I closed the door and stripped off my clothes. I turned the water on as hot as it would go and grabbed a washcloth from the drawer. I got in and hissed as the scalding water hit my skin. It hurt. I watched as the blood and dirt and bugs swirled down the drain.

I lathered the cloth with soap and scrubbed every inch of my body, effectively removing at least 3 layers of skin. When I was satisfied with that, I grabbed the bottle of shampoo and emptied at least half of it onto my hair. I scrubbed my scalp unmercifully, uncaring what the abuse did to my fingers. I scrubbed to the point of pain before letting the lather wash out. I emptied the rest of the bottle into my hair and repeated the process. I did the same with the conditioner and let that rinse out. I stood under the water, only turning it off when it ran cold. I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off with before wrapping it around my waste and wiping the steam off the mirror. I looked so much better despite my red skin. No more dirt or bugs. My cuts were clean and were healing quickly. I watched as the cut Dick had touched earlier healed itself in a few minutes. I could hardly believe my eyes, but then again…what was there not to believe right now? I'd just come back from the fucking grave. I wasn't wrong when I said there was a streak of white hair over my eyes. It was strange. It was only a clump of hair right in the front. The rest of my hair was still the dark brown it had always been. I tore my eyes away from the mirror and searched for a razor and shaving cream. Ten minutes later, my face was clean shaven and I was getting dressed. The last thing I did was brush my teeth for ten minutes and effectively disinfect it with Listerine. The taste of dirt was still faintly there, but the taste of death and larva was gone, which I was grateful for.

Dick and Tim were both sitting on the bed when I stepped out. Bruce was standing against the wall and Damian was sitting in my desk chair. Alfred walked through the door carrying another tray of food and a pitcher of water. I ignored everyone and went straight for the pitcher. I didn't bother with a cup but instead drank right out of the pitcher. When it was empty, I set it back down.

"Thanks, Al." I said as I picked up the roll on the plate.

I walked over and sat on the foot of the bed, glancing at the clock as I did so. It was 4:47 AM. Good thing the bats were used to long nights…

I nibbled on the bread as I waited for someone to break the silence. When no one did, I swallowed the remainder of the bread and looked at each of them in turn.

"Look, guys…Can we…can we do this awkward silence thing later? You wouldn't believe how exhausted I am." I asked trying to keep the irritation and cussing out of my voice. They all looked around at each other with silent communication. Bruce gave me a gentle nod. Alfred left the tray and shut the door behind them all. It was relief when they left, but I found myself wishing they hadn't gone. I was…lonely. I needed them.

_You're being stupid, Todd. _I told myself. _They aren't going anywhere._

I shook my head and slid under the sheets of my bed. It was firm, just the way I liked it. It didn't take much convincing to get myself to go to sleep, but when I did, it was a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Just the way I liked it.

**Please leave a review, and please smile at strangers, you might just make their day. Can you imagine? What if you see someone walking into the store, and that person had been having a horrible life. Maybe they even planned on going home to kill themselves? Then, what if you smiled at them and changed their mind? What if they see that smile, and they're just like, ****_'You know, that person has a reason to smile...that person has a reason to be happy." _****and then you make that person happy, and they choose not to go home and kill themselves? A smile can change lives. Just smile, guys. Just love each other. :)**

**and leave a review. :) :) :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay! third chapter! here we go! hope y'all love it!**

Chapter 3

The next morning-or afternoon, rather-I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I didn't feel like I wasn't supposed to be there. Waking up in that bed seemed so normal to me…

I threw my legs over the bed and walked to the door. I was ready to see them all and figure out what happened. I couldn't believe I had died…That just wasn't possible. I walked down the hall in my bare feet, barely making a sound as I descended the stairs and made my way across the marble floor to the kitchen where I knew they would be. I heard muffled voice coming from behind the door, so I leaned in and listened.

"Ok. Fine. We'll go with your crazy theory, Dick. But if it is him, what's he doing back from the dead?" Bruce asked.

"Did you see his hands?" Dick asked dismally, "I can't even begin to imagine what he's been through…"

"He's an imposter. He has to be. Father, I demand you kick him out of this house at once." Damian said harshly.

"No. He isn't going anywhere until we get some answers." Bruce responded.

_'Well…at least I know they won't kick me out anytime soon…'_

"Why would someone go to such lengths to make themselves look like a zombie just to mess with us?" Tim spat.

"The Lazarus Pit? Could that do it?" Dick asked.

"No….the pit can't resurrect the dead," Damian said expertly.

"That is not Jason! Stop entertaining that idea!" Tim barked.

"Master Tim is right. Jason didn't have white hair, and Jason knew about the security system… he wouldn't have tripped it."

"It can't be Jason. Besides, anyone can do that with a little makeup. I won't believe it." Tim said. "Why the hell did we let that man sleep in our house?"

"Then why the hair?" Alfred asked.

"I bet he killed some kind of animal to get the blood, and anyone could cake themselves in mud after the storm last night. Halloween is coming up, so he could have gotten one of those zombie makeup kits or something." Bruce said mostly to himself.

"Father is right. I don't believe it is him. It can't be." Damian said.

"Guys, he looks just like him! He acts like him, hell he even has the autopsy scar! How could it not be him?" Dick asked.

"Because, Dick. Jason is dead. People don't ever come back from the dead. You know that as well as any of us." Bruce said. That must have been a low blow for Dick.

There was silence as they dissected that.

"I don't know the reason. And I don't care. There's no way that isn't him."

"Think logically, Dick. He's been dead for months! You're being stupid." Tim said.

There was a pause.

"I know…but…he looks just like him."

"Like I said, makeup." Bruce said.

I couldn't believe they were standing there debating whether or not it was me…I was their brother…I was his son. How could they not see it was me?

I choked on my own breath.

"Someone's here." Damian said quietly. There was silence. I decided not to put it off any longer and pushed the door open. Bruce and Damian were sitting at the table, Tim leaned against the counter next to Alfred, and Dick stood in the middle of the room. I looked around at each of them.

"I-I know you don't believe it's me…" I said as I looked at Tim.

"You are not Jason. Get out of our house." He spat. I sighed and looked around the kitchen.

"Tim….listen, I know it's impossible to believe, hell, even I don't…but at least give me a chance."

"No! Get OUT!" he screamed as he threw a glass at me. I caught it clumsily.

"Tim! Stop!" Dick yelled as he held a hand up to him.

"Who are you?" Tim barked.

I looked at him with a loss for words. What was I supposed to say? Why was he so torn up about this? Tim never liked me anyway…

I looked over at Bruce who was staring at me waiting for my answer. Why didn't they see it! How could I prove to them I was who I said? Of course they don't believe me, who would? But they knew me. So why didn't they know me? I looked around their angry and hopeful faces. They needed proof. I looked at the counter where Alfred kept a collection of knives. I slowly walked over to it, Dick and Alfred moved out of my way. I reached for a knife and pulled it free of the block as I set the glass down on the counter. I heard chairs scrape against the floor as Damian and Bruce stood up quickly.

"Drop the knife!" Bruce yelled as he made his way toward me fearlessly. I turned swiftly around and held up my hands in surrender. He paused as he watched me. I slowly lifted my left hand to my head and took a lock of my hair in it. I sawed through my hair with the knife, cutting it loose as I did so. I set the knife down gently in the sink and cautiously approached Tim. He looked at me in disgust and hatred as I reached out to his hand. Surprisingly, he allowed me to take it. I placed the loose hair in his open palm and closed his finger over it.

"Please." I said, "Give me a chance to prove it." I said as I looked into his angry eyes. I watched as the light in his blue eyes changed. He looked almost somewhat sympathetic, but then it changed back to anger.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with your hair?" he asked defensively.

An idea popped into my head. The secret! I knew. They had to believe me if I knew.

"Come on Tim. I'm not stupid." I said convincingly. "If anyone can prove my identity, I know Robin can." I said with what I hoped was a charming smile.

His eyes widened as he jerked back.

"You're demented. Get out of here!"

"Come on guys!" I yelled as I turned to the rest of them. "Dick…you believe me. You know who I am. Take my hair and go downstairs to the cave. Run the tests. You're such a great detective, you too, Bruce. You two are the dynamic duo! If the third Robin won't even try, I know Batman and Nightwing will! Please! Just give me a chance. I need you!" I pleaded.

"Jason never needed anybody!" Damian protested. I looked up in shock. Damian had never called me that…

Bruce grabbed me by the front of my shirt and hauled me up to his face.

"I swear to god, if you're just some idiot kid messing with us, there will be hell to pay." He growled. I smacked his hands away and kneed him in the gut. He let go, but the price I paid for that was high. I was immediately jumped by Damian who put me in a tight choke hold. I struggled in his grasp, but found I was still too weak to do anything about it.

"So…I take it-Batman's training a…a new Robin. What happened, Tim, did the- Joker get you too?" I gasped out. Damian tightened his hold on my throat. I couldn't breathe…just like before. I could see the darkness on the edge of my vision.

"Master Damian! This is a guest in our house! Release him at once!" Alfred barked.

Damian's grip loosened slightly before he let me go.

"He is no guest." He said angrily.

I held a hand to my throat and rubbed it gently.

"It's me. Damian. Why can't you guys open your eyes and see that?"

"You don't even sound like Todd." He said.

_'No shit, Sherlock. You just strangled me half to death.'_

I looked at him from my spot on the floor as he, along with everyone else, stood over me looking down. After a solid 5 minutes of silence and hard breathing, Tim broke the silence.

"Fine. I'll run it." He said as he disappeared. Damian followed him out, leaving me with the three oldest men of the house. I never really noticed I was a middle child…

I stood up and faced my adopted father.

"You believe me, don't you, Bruce?" I asked hopefully. He had to believe, even if it was just a little bit.

He looked at me skeptically before he turned to sit back down.

"I'll believe it when the results come back. Even then, I'm not sure I will." He answered as he took a sip from his mug. I let my head fall in despair. Why did I want his approval all of a sudden?

"How long?" I asked.

"What?"

"How long have I been dead?"

There was no response.

"Answer the God damned question!" I yelled.

"Jason Todd has been dead for nine months." Came the soft reply of Dick. I stared at him, mouth agape. _Nine months!? What the hell?_

"Sit down, sir." Alfred said. I noticed he still didn't call me by my name. "I'll prepare you something to eat." I obeyed without a word and sat in my usual place across the table from Dick. The three eyed me skeptically as I took my seat and lay my hands on the table so my shredded fingers wouldn't touch anything. They hurt like hell and there was still bloody fluids seeping through the torn flesh. Why hadn't those healed like the rest of my cuts? Was it because they had been hurt after I woke up?

Dick sighed and walked out of the room, only to return later with a first aid kit. He took a seat in the chair next to me and gently pulled my left hand in front of him. I winced as he began pulling splinters out of my torn flesh and cleaning the exposed tissue with alcohol. I tried to bite back the small cries of pain as he did so, but I wasn't doing a very good job. I could feel the heat of embarrassment in my face when I felt a tear roll down my face. It wasn't even from pain. Actually, yes it was. But not physical pain. My heart was dying inside because my family didn't know who I was….they didn't believe me and they hated me. Not that I ever wanted their approval anyway…

"Alfred, cancel all of my appointments for today and tomorrow and tell my secretary I won't be in today due to family affairs." Bruce said as he looked me in the eye. I tried to avoid his gaze, but I could literally feel the weight of it boring down on me.

"Will do, Master Bruce." Alfred said as he set a plate of eggs, bacon, oatmeal and toast in front of me, along with a tall glass of milk. I gently used my right hand to eat the food and tried to ignore Dick as he cleaned my left hand. It took him over an hour to finish pulling the splinters out, cleaning the cuts and wrapping up each individual finger in gauze and tape. I was so relieved when he was done. That shit hurt. But when he let me have my hand back, he moved to the other side and took my other hand in his possession and started working on that. I cringed at the unwelcome pain. I knew he was trying to be gentle, but he was failing miserably. Alfred left the room after he finished cleaning. No doubt to go round up any molecule of dust he could find. I had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be able to find any. I buried my head on the table and grit my teeth to ward of any unwanted noises, once again failing.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying not to-"

"Don't worry about it." I said through clenched teeth, "Just hurry up and get it over with!"

An hour later, he had finally finished wrapping my fingers up.

"I can't tell if your nails will grow back…" he said.

"Can it, bird boy. I don't care about my nails, I'm not gonna be some whiny ass bitch because I broke a nail." I said. Dick gave a small smile. "I'm not like you." I added.

"Don't hate on my nails. They are beautiful." He said as he looked at his nails in mock admiration.

"Shut up." I said as I pulled my own hands close to me.

"Aw. You're jealous."

"Did I not just tell you to shut up?" I spat. Dick smiled and began gathering his first aid supplies and putting them back in the box.

Tim and Damian both walked back into the kitchen wearing looks of hope on their faces.

I stood up from the table and looked back at them with the same expression, hoping beyond hope that they would believe me and convince Bruce and Dick it really was me. I walked around the table slowly, waiting for one of them to speak.

I wasn't disappointed.

"Alright, Todd. I demand you explain why-"

"Just shut up, Dami." Tim said as he rushed up to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I was shocked. Was I missing something here? Did this kid not hate my guts? What gives?

"I can't believe it. You're back…You're really back…" he whispered into my chest.

"Took you long enough." I said as I returned his hug. We stood there for a long moment. I felt the front of my shirt get wet, and I knew it was time to pull back. I released my grip and pulled him away by his shoulders. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. Dick, who was standing off to the side with tears in his eyes as well, walked up to us and embraced us both in a hug. I rolled my eyes and stood there, accepting it. It wasn't long before I felt two strong arms wrap around us. I looked up to see Bruce had joined us. I would never admit it…but I didn't want that moment to end…

It got better when the little devil wiggled his way in between Dick and I and wrapped his arms around my torso.

"Well. I guess the tests came back positive?" Alfred said as he walked in. Everyone pulled back and looked at the old man. He made his way over to me and stood directly in front of me. He placed his hand on my face gently.

"Welcome home, Master Jason." He greeted kindly as he embraced me in a hug. He pulled back with tears in his eyes. Everyone was crying…including me.

**so...what'd'ya think?**

**please leave a review below and let me know.**

**also, smile at a stranger today and let them know they're loved!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm updating this today in honor of Veteran's day, because Jason is a soldier. I love America's Vets. They have sacrificed so much for us, and even though I've never met any of them, and they have never met me, I hope they know how much I appreciate all that they've done. Some gave all, and all gave some.**

**Thank you so much.**

**I hope y'all enjoy this one. It picks up right where the last one left off.**

**On with the story!**

**Chapter 4**

I wiped away the rebellious tears and looked back up with renewed strength. "I still don't believe it though." I whispered. "How could I have died? How am I here?"

My questions were met with silence.

"Well…let's go back to where this all started. Let's go look at your grave." Dick suggested.

That-was actually a good idea…I walked out of the kitchen without a word and toward the front door. Bruce and Dick walked along side me and we were followed by Tim, Damian and Alfred. We trekked through the yard and down the walkway that led back to my grave. I could see the earth had been disturbed from the entrance. When we got there, there was clearly a hole in the ground and it was clear that there was a struggle there. I could see blood on the letters of my name where I had touched it the night before. I traced the letters with my wrapped fingers, but this time, I could see what it actually said.

HERE LIES

JASON PETER TODD WAYNE

Beloved son and brother

Always loved and never forgotten

A hero by his own right

"Damn, Todd. You're a zombie." Damian said as he looked down the hole. Tim was sifting through the dirt around the hole. I looked over his shoulder and down the hole as well. It was terrifying knowing that I clawed through my own coffin and popped through the ground like a daisy. Dick picked up my jacket and tie I had discarded.

It reminded me that my belt was still down there. I knelt on the ground next to Damian and began digging the hole bigger. I wanted my belt back…I needed that. It was the one thing I cherished from Bruce…

"My god, Jason. What are you doing?" Tim asked. I ignored him and kept digging, despite my protesting fingers. There was silence as I dug.

Dick dropped to his knees beside me and started digging too. It wasn't long before Tim, Damian, and Bruce were helping too. I didn't notice Alfred had walked away until he came back.

"I'm not quite sure what's going on around here, but this doesn't seem like a very efficient way to dig." He said. I looked up to see him holding three shovels. I could hardly believe Bruce owned a shovel…

I smiled as I pushed myself up and took one from him. Dick and Bruce each took one as well and helped me dig. They didn't even know what I was looking for….but I still appreciated the effort. We dug until we hit the top of my coffin, then we cleared the lid of dirt and exposed each corner.

"Look at that." I scoffed. "I just dug my own grave…" I said morbidly. No one said anything.

I jumped down onto the lid of the coffin and shoved my hand through the hole I clawed out. Looking at it now, it was hard to believe I had fit through it…

I felt around the soft interior. The first thing my hand touched was that useless piece of paper I had found. I pulled it out and wiped the dirt off of it. I gasped at the realization of what it was. It was the picture of my first family that was missing from my mirror back at the manor… I laughed at the irony. He buried me with my parents. What a joke. I pressed the picture to my lips and slipped it into my back pocket before I reached back in to find the belt. I pulled it out and climbed out of the hole holding it triumphantly.

Bruce looked at the item in my hand. I barely caught the corner of his lip turn up.

"So…if we stick with the laws of physics," Tim said, "Then what goes up must go back down…"

We all looked at him in confusion.

He rolled his eyes like we were missing the most obvious point in the world.

"You died Jason." He said.

"No shit, Sherlock. What's your point?"

"My _point, _Jason, is that you can't stay that way…you're going to have to go back sooner or later…right? I mean… you came up from the grave….you have to go back down." He said dismally.

"There is no way in hell I'm going back down there." I said definitely as I pointed to the hole in my coffin.

"You won't. We're all going to our graves, Tim. Jason's alive now…just like us. Who says he can't live and just die of old age?"

"Look. I don't know the answers. Heck, I barely understand the questions…I just know that he was dead. Dead things don't come back."

"Clearly." I droned.

"Let's go back." Alfred said. "You all need to get cleaned up, then you may discuss the events leading up to Master Jason's resurrection." He said as he turned on his heel and walked out of the grave yard. We all threw glances at one another as we followed him out and back to the house.

Two hours later, all of us had showered and changed. I had put on some cargo pants and a black shirt covered by a dark brown leather jacket. I always loved the jacket and pants, and when I found them in my closet, I was psyched about wearing them.

I knew we were meeting in the cave, and I found myself staring at the clock in Bruce's study. So many times I had reached up and moved the hands…so many times I descended the steps into the dark, dank cave below the manor. But this felt different. I wasn't going down there now because it was my job…I was going down there to find out why I had come back from the dead. It was so morbidly hilarious when I think about it… I dug myself out of my grave, only to willingly go back underground to live the rest of my life like I always had been.

I was sick of it.

I didn't need that anymore…I didn't need Robin or Batman anymore. I needed Bruce and Dick and Tim and Damian and Alfred. I needed family to be there for me when I needed them. I didn't need a bunch of freaks who dressed up like birds and flew around the city like some god damned glorified cops in tights. What good have we ever done for the city? Sure, we cleaned up some petty criminals for drug runs or bank robberies…but what about the real criminals? Cat Woman, Penguin, Two-Face, Black Mask, Deathstroke the Terminator...The Joker? Where the hell were they? Running the streets, wreaking havoc on civilians and manipulating CEOs and high up government officials to work under their twisted logic and murderous affairs? Were they off killing innocents for blood money, or dealing drugs to children? What kind of justice system were we ever running? Sure, we put some of them away, but only for a few weeks before they broke out again. We weren't hitting them where it hurt the most. We weren't going after _them. _No, we were protecting the streets from purse snatchers, second rate criminals and foiled attempted murders. We never once got a _real _criminal off the streets of Gotham. That had always been Batman's motive: clean up Gotham. But what exactly had he done to clean? All he's done is pick up around the big stuff and sweep up some crumbs. Someone needed to clean up this city, and if Batman couldn't do it, I would. But first, I needed to get one murderer off the streets.

Permanently.

I sighed as I reached up and moved the hands on the clock. The clock slid back, revealing the secret staircase that led down to the cave. I looked around the study before disappearing yet again into the dark abyss that was Batman's lair.

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were all seated around the large table at the center of the main section of the cave. They all looked up when I entered. Now that I think about it, that was the first time I had ever seen any of them down there out of costume…

"Where is the Joker?" I asked as I took my place next to Bruce.

"We don't know."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"We found him 2 months after you died and we put him back in Arkham." Bruce said.

"But, he escaped again about three weeks in with the aid of Dr. Fries." Dick finished for him.

"Right…and where is Fries?" I asked.

"He's still confined in his cell there." Damian said.

I nodded. "What information did the interrogation give us?" I asked.

"Fries told us that he helped the Joker escape because quote: "It's never a bad idea to have the Joker owe you one." He went on to say that he had arranged for a certain guard to check on the Joker's cell to make sure he hadn't done anything to escape. Joker knocked the guard out, switched clothes, and walked out of the building as if he were leaving for work." Tim said.

"Who was the guard?"

"His name was Scott Linville. He doesn't remember anything about that night, and he quit his job after the incident." Bruce said.

"What else? What else did Fries say?"

"That's it. He gave up the information willingly, without struggle or bargaining." Dick said.

"This is completely useless information." I spat as I slammed my hand onto the desk. I tried not to wince as pain shot up my arm. "Tim, where was the last know location of the Joker before he was sent to Arkham?"

Tim typed something up on his computer and waited while the computer searched.

"It says the last confirmed sighting was at the abandoned amusement park in Silverton just outside of Gotham."

"What was he doing there?" I asked.

"Reports tell us he wasn't really doing anything. The GCPD got an anonymous tip that he was there. They called Batman and by the time we got there, he had already fled the scene. We picked him up later in Crime Alley a few weeks after that."

If the Joker was at the amusement park, there had to be something going down. A meeting or something…Who would the Joker meet with, though?

"When was Fries admitted to the Asylum?"

"Five months ago. Before we got the tip." Dick said.

So…If Joker's prison buddy wasn't there…who was? The Joker wouldn't just go there to pass the time. He's smarter than that…psychotic and senseless, but still smart. He knew what he was doing.

"Damian, you said the pit can't resurrect the dead, right?"

"Affirmative. Not after nine months anyway…My mother was resurrected several times after she died, but she was put in immediately after her death."

So that was out…No one would dig me up to dunk me in a pool and then bury me again. What would be the point? What was the point in even trying to figure out how I came back? Why focus on something that we would never know? Why not focus instead on who killed me? I needed to find the Joker. I needed my body back…

"Bruce…I need my body back." I said seriously.

"We'll get you there." He promised. I nodded. If anyone could do this, he could. And I trusted him.

That night, without anyone knowing, I crept down to the Bat Cave and moved to the locker where all of the weapons were kept. I opened it and reached in, pulling out a wicked looking knife with a wavy blade, and another with serrated teeth. I almost went with that when a black glock caught my eye. I pulled that out, along with its extra clips and side holster and followed everything up with a basic utility belt that I strapped across my chest and back. I closed the locker and made my way to the parking deck where my motorcycle sat covered by a dusty tarp. I ripped it off and looked at my shiny black bike that I had loved so well.

I stepped up to a black motor cycle and pulled my red helmet over my head. I revved the engine and sped out of the cave and down the country road to Silverton. I pushed the bike as fast as it would go. Perks of having a Bat Bike was that it topped 300 mph-and that was on a slow day. I took the curves too fast and sped across puddles. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the abandoned parking lot of the old amusement park. Grass and weeds were growing up through cracks in the sidewalk. I stepped through the fence and looked around.

_What am I doing here? _ I thought. This was where the Joker was last seen, so…maybe I could find _something _valuable.

If I were the Joker, where would I go?The house of mirrors seemed like a good option, so I started my search of the mirrors were broken in and paint was sprayed across the walls and it easier for me make out the turns in the maze.I made my way to the very center of the building, using a flashlight from the belt as my light were foot prints in the set of large, the other set average.I knew all too well what size the Joker's shoes were.I looked at my forearm for comparison and determined the larger prints to be those of the Clown Prince of who did the smaller prints belong to? I held the flashlight in my teeth and dug around in the belt for a camera.I snapped a picture of the print for Tim to look at later, then, ignoring the large foot prints, I followed the smaller ones out of the house of mirrors. They led me to the back entrance of the building, but I lost them after that.I growled under my breath as I turned back to the I got there, I saw the old foot prints, as well as my own fresh , accompanying mine were another had just been there…someone was standing right behind me.

**Yes. I'm evil. A cliffhanger. Too bad I probably won't update for weeks and weeks and weeks...because I'm lazy. **

**Haha.**

**But, if I get at least 10 reviews for this chapter by thursday telling me how I did and mention something about our awesome veterans and how much you appreciate them, I'll post again on Saturday. No, this is not blackmail. If you know, know of, or did know a veteran that you think deserve to be recognized, send them a shout out in your review and I'll honor their names in the AN for the next chapter. **

**If you can't say something good about the veterans, I don't want to hear it. I'm not being bitter or rude, it's just that I respect them, and I don't want to hear a single soul bashing those who gave up so much. Even if you're not from America, your country has veterans too who have sacrificed for you. Show them some love and appreciation.**

**Sorry if I sound harsh, I just love my country and love those who died fighting for it and the sacrifices made to defend us and keep us free. I love our Vets. **

**So, thanks so much, veterans. And thank you, readers, for your support.**

**Just love each other, guys.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! I have returned with another chapter! sorry to say this one is short, but I hope you can forgive me.**

**Thanks to those of you who sent a shout out to your veterans:  
>Thanks to the following:<strong>

**Grandpa Lou**

**Chris**

**Jim**

**John**

**James**

**Scott**

**Doyle**

**Uncle Charles**

**Uncle Donnie**

**Uncle Donald**

**and the rest of you wonderful vets. y'all rock.**

**Alright. Now then, on with the story...where was I? Oh yes. I left you at a cliff hanger. haha.**

Chapter 5

"Look at that. Dad's gonna be thrilled to see that his plan worked."

I turned around to see a sexy woman wearing black. She had long white hair and wore a black and orange mask that came down to her nose. She had two swords strapped to her back and a pistol at each hip.

I immediately thought it was Deathstroke the Terminator, but gender blended. It was a perfectly feasible option. After all-I just came back from the dead. I pulled the serrated knife from my belt and swung at her with my good right arm. She easily got out of the way and pulled her sword on me.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked.

"What? Can't you see the family resemblance?" She asked as she swiped the sword uncomfortably close to my neck.

"Don't play games with me, bitch. If you know what's good for you, you'll get outta here."

"Mmmm…nah. I thought maybe we could talk a little first." She said casually as we began circling each other. It reminded me of Peter Pan and Captain Hook. I had my short little dagger, and she had a sword…not to mention muscle all over. Good odds.

"So tell me, how did you come back from the dead, Jason Todd?" she asked

I froze at the mention of my name.

"How do you know who I am?"

"Oh please. I know everything. It wasn't hard to figure out, what with seeing your grave dug up and all." She said as she lunged at me and hit me in the shoulder with the hilt of her sword.

When did she see my grave? We only just dug it up that morning.

"You've been watching us?" I asked as I retaliated by slicing at her rib cage. It was ineffective due to the Kevlar and my weak swing.

"No. I've been watching you." She said as she stepped back to regroup.

"Why?"

"Daddy told me to. Said he expected you to come back sooner or later."

"How did he know that?" I asked as I threw my knife toward her. She ducked out of the way and the knife hit the wall with a loud clang before falling to the floor.

"Because he's the one who brought you back."

"What the fuck for?"

"Not important. What is important is that you cooperate."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I never cooperate." I said as I drew my gun on her. I shot at her hand. The bullet hit the sword, causing her to drop it. Bruce hated guns. This was the first time I'd ever held someone at gunpoint. Bruce taught me how to use it…but he never let me. And holding the weapon felt great. It was powerful, and by extent, made me powerful. She let a smile grace her lips as I pushed her up against the wall with a hand on her throat and a gun to her head.

"Who are you?"

"The name is Ravager. I'm the daughter of Deathstroke the Terminator."

"No shit. I already knew that. Why does he want me alive?" I demanded as I poked her forehead roughly with the gun.

"I can't give away the secret. But, I can tell you how he brought you back."

"Talk." I said as I pushed the gun to her skull.

"Calm down, big boy. Remember the bugs?"

How could I possibly forget the wretched bugs? Just the thought of them made my skin crawl.

"What about them?"

"Dad put them there. He designed those bugs using similar chemicals used in the Lazarus pits. But his was stronger. He exposed the larva to the chemicals for nine months. When they were ready to do their job, he and I went to your grave and drilled a hold all the way down through your coffin. Some of the bugs were pumped with human adrenaline and male hormones. When they made contact with your heart and brain, the pit chemicals rejuvenated your normal brain function, but the adrenaline got your heart pumping on overdrive to reproduce your blood and send it to your brain. Those same bugs also got rid of any infection or bacteria your body may have acquired. They helped heal some of your cuts faster. It took a few days for everything to take effect, but when it did, you came back."

I let her information sink in. It actually made perfect sense…it was a foolproof plan. Disgusting and unconventional, but good.

"When the first bugs died after reproduction, they planted eggs that hatched as normal, everyday larva. No one would suspect a thing."

I waited for her to continue.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Let me go. I told you everything he wanted me to."

"Why did you follow me here?"

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" she asked as she pushed the gun aside and stepped out of the way.

"No. Just making sure you're on your toes."

"It's appreciated. I had a message to deliver. That's it. Now if you'll excuse me." She turned and walked away.

I don't know why I just let her do that…probably because she had a nice ass…

**Yes. There ye be. now then, what did you think? Please leave me a review.**

**also, does anyone know of a website where I can go get paid to edit stuff? I love editing, although I don't really do much on my own work...but seriously. I love it, and if I could get paid to do it, that would be the best thing ever! Any thoughts? I have odesk, and elance didn't work out for me. Any other ideas?**

**Thanks for reading and being awesome!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey y'all! I'm back! I'm so sorry I've been gone so long, school and Christmas and family affairs have beckoned and taken away my attention. Here is the next update, and it starts where the last chapter left off. I'll leave you alone to read this...**

Chapter 6

Why did Deathstroke go through all the trouble of bringing me back? What did he want with _me?_ And why did he send her instead of coming to tell me himself? I'd never met Deathstroke in my life, and I was grateful for it…but where was the connection? Deathstroke isn't stupid. He wouldn't waste resources like that…there had to be another reason…so why in fuck's name did he go to all of the trouble just to bring me back to life? Where's the motive there? He didn't owe my anything, so this was no favor…

Did he want something from me? Did he want me to think that because he brought me back, I'd feel obligated to owe him a favor? I'm a bat, though…why would he ever want my help? I pushed that idea out of my head as I walked out of the house of mirrors and toward my bike.

I threw my leg over the seat and revved the engine. Rain started falling again as I pulled out of the old parking lot. Thoughts whirled around in my head. If Deathstroke and the Joker were working together, that could prove to be a pretty difficult thing to deal with. But why would they even have anything to do with each other? The Joker was psychotic. Deathstroke wasn't. In fact, I somewhat admired the man for his wit and intellectual schemes. But I didn't know enough about him to figure out why he would even consider working with the Joker. The Joker killed me because I got in the middle of a drug deal…Deathstroke wasn't a part of that. Besides, if they were working together, why would Deathstroke bring me back after his 'partner' had killed me? That wasn't practical. It would be a waste of time, money, and resources…

I scratched the idea out of my head as I pulled back into the cave.

I had gotten back in time so no one would know I had left. But Bruce would probably be down here any minute…

I went to the computer and started looking up everything we had on the Lazarus pit. Damian said it wouldn't resurrect the dead, so how did I come back?

I sat there in my own thoughts.

There had to be a reason. Deathstroke wouldn't just reveal his plan to me like that…there was no way I believed what Ravager had said…

My thoughts were interrupted by Dick as he descended the stairs and made his way over to his gymnast equipment stuff followed by Tim. Tim enjoyed watching Dick. He always had. It's how he learned the secret. Tim was a fan of the Flying Graysons before they got prematurely separated. Neither of them saw me as they walked past. I listened to Dick's movements from my spot for a while before shutting the computer down and walking over to them.

"Hey, Jason." Tim greeted. "Did you just wake up?"

"Yeah." I lied. I had been awaked for the past twelve hours.

"Did you eat?"

"No, not yet. Why?"

"Alfred's making pancakes."

My mouth watered at the mention of Alfred's famous pancakes. They were the best food ever. Well, right next to chili dogs.

I looked up and watched as Dick expertly threw his weight around on the still rings. Tim, Damian, and I knew how to do it. Dick trained us in the art of acrobatics. But the training was minimal. It was something Bruce wanted us to know how to do in order to help us with our fighting skill and technique. We didn't ever use it much when we were fighting, but we were all light on our feet. Dick is the only one who actually uses the talent when fighting. It's really quite incredible to watch…

"Hey, Jay! Want a go?" Dick called.

I laughed and shook my head. "No way, bro. You know my aerial skills are fucked up."

"Jason. Stop saying that." Came Bruce's deep voice. I turned and saw him approaching us in casual workout clothes.

"Chill out, Bruce." I said. "It never mattered before."

"It always mattered. Stop saying that." He demanded. I looked back at Dick and rolled my eyes. I was rewarded with a hard smack to the back of my head.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"I saw that." He said simply. Of course he did. "Alfred told me to come get you boys. Breakfast is ready."

Dick flipped down and landed perfectly at the mention of breakfast. He, like the rest of us, loved Alfred's pancakes. He came up to us and we all walked back up the stairs and to the elaborate kitchen of Wayne manor. Damian was sitting at the table chowing down when we got there. Dick and Tim both loaded up their plates and sat at the table. When I reached for a plate, Alfred stopped me with a wooden spoon.

"Ah. Master Jason. _This _will be your breakfast." He said as he handed me a tall glass of some brown shake.  
>"What is this?" I asked skeptically as I scrutinized the content of the glass.<p>

"That is a protein shake full of nutrients and vitamins."

"And why are you giving me this?"

"Because, Jason. You need to get your strength back. You need to rebuild your muscle." Bruce said.

"Quite. This drink is specially formulated to help you rebuild muscle and bone strength. It will increase growth speed as you train."

I took a small sip of the drink. It was bitter and sour at the same time, and tasted like maggots blended with rotten milk. It was horrible.

"Oh my God!" I yelled as I spit it out in the sink. I placed the glass on the counter disdainfully. I grabbed another glass from the cabinet and filled it with water to wash the horrible taste out of my mouth. I slammed the glass in the sink as Damian and Tim laughed hysterically at me. I looked at Alfred miserably.

"You're going to have to get used to that, Master Jason. I'm afraid it will be your breakfast for the next few months.

"Bull shit. There's no way I'm drinking that." I said as I shot the glass of mutilated bugs a look of pure hatred.

He gave me a sad smile.

"Look. I appreciate the effort, but I can build my muscle back the same way I did before." I said.

"That's true, Master Jason. But judging by what you've lost, it could take two or more years before you return to your original structure." Alfred said.

"What do you know?" I spat. He was a doctor…of course he knew.

"Jason. You're weak."

"Way to be sympathetic, Bruce." Dick deadpanned.

"I know I'm weak. I know." I said. I hated to admit it, but he was right. The Joker blew up the left side of my body. I had to build my muscle back.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm guess going to work my fucking ass off until I get back to where I was."

"You're going to have to do that with or without the diet. This is going to shorten your time and get you back in the game sooner. Without it, you're stuck here, because I'm not letting you go anywhere until I know you're strong enough." Bruce said seriously.

I shouted, "I didn't say I wanted to drink bug guts to get my body back!"

"You want your body back? This is how you're going to get it. I want you back out there."

"We'll help you, Littlewing." Dick said.

"Don't call me that." I spat. "You're right… I need my body back, but I don't want to get it this way! There has to be another option."

"There isn't." Bruce deadpanned.

Alfred lifted the tall glass and set it in my hand gently while giving me a small pat on the arm.

I looked at the evil drink. The recipe must have been invented by the Devil himself. I looked down at my body, letting my eyes trail up my shriveled arm. I knew I was going to need all the help I could get. Besides, the sooner I was back to normal, the sooner the Joker would be off the streets of Gotham.

"Fine. But once I get my body back to where it was, I need you to leave me on my own."

"One step at a time." Bruce said gently.

I nodded and picked up the glass. If this is what Alfred and Bruce said I needed to do, I was going to do it. I hated it, but I accepted it. Just like death. I lifted the glass to my lips and poured the thick liquid down my throat slowly. It was revolting, but I didn't stop until it was gone. It took all of my will power to force the last gulp down my throat, but I did it. I shuddered as it went down. I slammed the glass back on the counter with a loud crash and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I didn't look at anyone as I took a moment to compose myself.

"We aren't letting you go alone, Jason. Not until I'm fully satisfied that you can hold your own. I won't lose you again because you were unprepared." Bruce said once the drink was gone.

_Shouldn't have lost me in the first place. If only you'd been a man and killed him before everything got out of hand…_

"I don't care if I die again." I said simply.

"We care." Alfred said.

"No you don't." I said. "You can't. I'm already dead, I have been for months. I've got to do this alone. You don't understand. You have to let me go."

"How the hell do you expect us to do that?" Tim asked.

"You did it once."

"That doesn't matter. You are our _brother, _Jason. We love you. We aren't just going to send you to your death again."

"Why not? I know what to expect. I'm not afraid to die."

"How are you so calm about this, Jay?"

"It wasn't so bad." I said quietly.

"What was it like, then? Dying I mean." Tim asked solemnly.

"It was…peaceful almost. I knew it was coming, and I accepted it. I knew I was going to die that night even before I saw the bomb."

"Wait…you were alive when the building exploded?" Damian asked in shock.

"Yeah." I shrugged.

"So the Joker just locked you in a warehouse so you could watch the last few seconds of your life tick by?" Damian asked.

"No. He beat me with a crow bar and _then _locked me in the warehouse so I could watch the last few seconds of my life tick by." I said matter-of-factly. Alfred dropped his frying pan at my words.

By the looks on their faces, I could tell they didn't know that little bit of information.

"He beat you? With a _crowbar?_" Dick asked in disbelief.

"He called himself my 'Uncle Joker'…he called it a 'severe spanking'… what a sick psychopath…You don't know what happened?" I asked in the same tone.

"No…well, we knew about your mother working with the Joker, and we knew the Joker blew up the building. But we didn't know he-he…" He didn't finish. "You're mom said you saved her…"

"She's alive?!" I asked in excited shock.

"No…she died in the blast. I got there right as the explosion happened. I found Sheila first and she was still alive-"

"Oh, God." I choked as I unconsciously placed a hand over my mouth and turned away to lean over the sink.

"She said you covered the bomb with your body to protect her from the blast…"

I looked at him before answering, nodding slightly as I did so. "I did."

"Did it hurt?" Tim asked.

"No. I don't think so." I said.

There was silence between us.

"I'm going to kill him." I said simply.

"What? Who?" Damian asked in surprise.

"The Joker."

"No you're not." Bruce said seriously.

"Yes, I am." I shot back. "He should already be dead, Bruce. He's killed hundreds upon hundreds on innocent people. He deserves to die, and I swear to God, I'm going to kill that bastard."

"No. God Almighty, no." Bruce snapped. "I am not going to let that happen. We don't kill."

"I know you don't kill. But I'm not you. Bruce, you always said you were going to clean up the God forsaken city, but what the hell have you done for Gotham?"

"We've gotten criminals off the streets, Jason. We've made this place better." Bruce said.

"Holy fuck, Bruce! What the hell do you think you've accomplished by dragging in purse snatchers and petty thieves, huh!?" I screamed, "They aren't criminals! The real devils are the ones who fucking kill! Where are they, Bruce?! Where are they? Running the streets killing their lowly clients and SELLING DRUGS TO KIDS! Where the hell have you been? You get them off the streets and lock them in a nice warm building for the night only to hear they escape the next fucking morning! You put them in a glorified mental hospital, Bruce! They're still out there! They're still hurting people and they don't care! You don't care because you aren't doing a single fucking thing about it!" Selling drugs to kids was a sore spot for me…if those drug dealers hadn't sold to me when I was 8…maybe Catherine Todd would still be alive…

"Calm down, Jason!" Tim yelled at me.

"Shut up!" I screamed at him. "You aren't doing anything! WE have never done anything _ever _to help this damned city! Putting killers away isn't going to stop them! You have to give them a dose of their own fucking medicine, Bruce!" I was panting. The stress of yelling had worn me out…I really was weak.

"And if we kill them that doesn't make us any better than they are!"

"What the hell, Bruce?! The cops kill criminals all the time and they're fucking heroes! All you ever do is break their nose and send them to jail! The corrupted cops of this corrupted city are doing a better job of cleaning up the streets than you ever have!"

"The cops aren't helping a soul-" Bruce began.

"The hell they're not!" I screamed cutting him off.

"Master Jason! Compose yourself." Alfred said sternly. I ignored him.

"What good is stopping a criminal for a week? You don't have any control over them, Bruce! They don't even fear you! You have to get in and destroy the criminal empire from the inside out, and if that means the psychopathic serial killers die, then who cares?" I said the last part in a deadly whisper.

"I care."

"Why, Bruce? Why do you care? They're killers. They don't deserve to live." I hissed.

"Killing them isn't the answer. The reason I got into this business was to get killing off the streets of Gotham, and we aren't going to kill to accomplish that."

"That's such a load of bull shit. Your goddamn morals aren't going to change anything! Either you buckle down and open your eyes, or you let Gotham City rot. It's your choice, but I'm not just going to sit around and do nothing, Bruce. Think of everyone that's died. Think of _everyone _who's been hurt_." _I said as I faced the rest of them with sweat trickling down my temple.

"Thomas and Martha." For Bruce.

"Stephanie and Jack." For Tim.

"John and Mary." For Dick.

"Ra's and Talia." For Damian.

"Barbara…and me." For all of them.

I watched as their faces grew dim. "All of us…and you're just sitting around doing nothing. I've been dead for nine months, and you don't so much as have an inkling of an idea where The Joker is. He _murdered _me, Bruce! He's murdered thousands of people! He shouldn't be alive." I said the last sentence quietly as I crossed my arms and looked at the floor.

There was a full ten minutes of silence as they all looked from one to another.

"Jason. I know you're hurt. I know you're scarred, and I know you're scared. But you need to calm down and clear your head. I-"

"You know what, Bruce? Just forget it." I said. I knew I was just blowing hot air, but it was worth a shot, and I was glad it was off my chest. I pushed past him and out of the kitchen. I made my way to the study and down the steps to the batcave. I was going to do this; I was going to kill the Joker. But first, I needed to get my strength back. I walked to the back of the cave and scanned the workout equipment there. I settled my eyes on a set of dumb bells and walked to it. I tried to pick up each one with my left arm and found the heaviest one I could lift was 30 pounds. I sighed.

This was going to take months. I sat down and started bicep curls with the dumb bell. I felt the heat increase in my arm, but nothing was going to make me stop. My arm shook each time I lowered my hand. It only took a few reps until I didn't think I could go any longer.

'_This is the arm you're going to kill the Joker with. This is the arm you're going to kill Deathstroke with. This is the arm you're going to kill Penguin with. This is the arm you're going to kill Black Mask with. This…' _I kept repeating it over and over in my head. I had to. It didn't make lifting the damn thing easier, but it kept my mind focused on that one simple movement. _Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down…_

I don't know how long I let my arm burn in what seemed like hell, but it must have been a while because I was stopped by Dick.

"Jason, stop. You're going to hurt yourself." He said as he placed a hand on top of mine to stop my movement.

"Pain is irrelevant." I said as I looked him in the eye.

He looked sad at my words. "Well take a break anyway. Get some water and we can spar if you want."

He removed his hand. My concentration was broken. I sighed and stood up to place the dumb bell back on its proper rack. I followed Dick back to the main part of the cave where Alfred had left a tray of water on the table. I scoffed as I lifted the glass to my lips and poured the water down my throat. I leaned against the table for a moment before nodding at Dick. He pulled two bo staffs out of the locker and tossed one to me. I caught it easily and we headed off to the sparring ring. I wasn't expecting to lose. I never had before-not against Dick anyway. I always beat him, and I had always had more brawn than he. But this time, he totally destroyed me. I went down time after time, even when he seemed to be going easy on me. I was winded by the second spar. I couldn't keep up with him and every time I lost, I just got more infuriated. I put as much power as I had behind each of my attacks, but it wasn't enough. Dick still easily outmaneuvered me. Tim and Damian entered the cave during our seventh round to watch.

Dick over powered me. On what I think was our 16th round, he and I came down to a fight of strength. I already knew who would win. Our bo staffs were pressed against each other perpendicularly as we pushed against the other. I tried, but I was far too tired to do any good. Dick pushed me down until my left knee buckled and hit the floor. He pulled back when I was down. I lowered my staff in utter defeat and lowered my other knee to the ground so that I was literally on my knees in front of him with my head bowed. Dick lowered himself to my level and looked me in the eye.

"Jason…" he began before he was cut off by Batman's entrance into the cave.

Batman looked our way and nodded before walking away to the bat mobile and speeding off to begin patrol. I supposed he expected me to shrug off everything I said earlier and forget about it. He knew I was lazy, I knew it too. But this was different. This was my life now, even if it was my second one.

I vaguely wondered why Damian or Tim hadn't gone with him…Why was he going alone?

"Come on." Dick said as he placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the treadmill.

"What's this for?"

"If you have to get back to where you were, we need to see where you're at. Starting with stamina." He said as he shoved me onto the treadmill. I never did like that thing…it went beyond fast, and since I wasn't controlling the speed, it made me even more nervous.

"Look, I don't really think-"

"We'll take it slow." Dick said. I sighed as I took off my shirt for him to hook up all of the wires that monitored my endorphins and adrenaline, along with heart, lung, and brain function. Even my killer abs were gone…bummer. Dick and the others took a seat behind the control desk in front of me.

"Just tell us when you've had enough." Dick called as he started the machine.

I started out walking, then got faster and faster until I was at a jog. I felt a stitch in my side as I ran, but I ignored it and tried to keep the pace. They kept increasing the speed until I was in a full out sprint. It was tough, and I was tired, but they already knew I was weak, and I didn't want to prove that to them anymore than I had to. I glanced up and saw they were all looking at the monitors intently, pointing and speaking among themselves. My lungs and calves were burning, and I could hear my rapid heartbeat as I tried to keep up with the treadmill. I wondered how long I'd been running…I was winded.

Finally, I felt the ground beneath my feet slowing down. I don't know what I was thinking, but I just stopped. My feet just wouldn't move anymore, and that was stupid. Next thing I knew, I was flying through the air and crashing into the cave wall. I looked up dazed and saw three fuzzy images standing over me. I barely heard their muffled speech as the called to me. I could, however, hear the blood raging past my ears.

"Fuck." I said when I finally came to.

"Are you alright, Jay?" Dick asked as he helped me up. "What happened?"

"I stopped." I said simply.

"Just like that? You stopped?" Tim asked.

I shrugged as I pushed past them, panting hard. I slumped down in the chair at the control desk, trying to catch my breath and looked at my vitals as I ran. I was shocked at what I saw. I started out normally, but when I got into the jog, they spiked aggressively. When I hit the sprint, they were off the charts, then all of a sudden they flat lined when I was thrown off.

"What the hell, Dick. Why'd you let me get that high?" I asked through hard breathing.

"It wasn't right. You looked fine on the outside. You were breathing normally and your rhythm was spot on. You were only on there for 3 minutes."

Three minutes and I could barely breathe with my lungs aflame?

"How did you feel?" Tim asked.

"I was fine, I guess...I was ready to stop right about the time you were slowing down…" I said as I looked back over the vitals.

I felt a cold finger touch my back. I jumped and straightened my back at the contact.

"Sorry…it's just that now I know what happened…all of these scars look like…"

"Then end of a crow bar." I finished for him, "I know."

"Why aren't any of you with Batman tonight?" I asked, spinning around in the chair to look at them.

There was a brief moment of pause before Tim sputtered out an answer.

"He-uh…he didn't need us tonight. He needed time alone after…everything that's happened. He just went solo tonight is all." He said quickly.

"Good lie, Tim." I said. His face turned red. I didn't care anymore. I knew Bruce probably told them to watch me. Probably because I said I would kill the criminals and he didn't want me going anywhere. "You can tell him that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I'm too weak to go out yet. His precious little criminals are safe for now." I said smugly.

"You're not really thinking of killing anyone, are you?" Dick asked.

"Yes." I said simply as I stood and walked back to the main part of the cave where Alfred left the water. Why was that so hard for them to believe? "I grew up in crime alley. What do you expect?" I asked quietly. I was being honest, too. Ever since Bruce took me in, I always thought he had been doing things wrong, but I went along with it. Why? I'll never know…but now I know I should've done things right…I wasn't an innocent little kid, I'd seen death-experienced it firsthand. I'd seen everything-_everything. _

"You were raised better than that, Jason. All of us were."

"You grew up with a loving family, Dick. You don't kill. Tim grew up in a mansion, completely protected from the world and all its evil. He doesn't kill. Damian's already a killer, and I grew up in crime alley around death and drugs and sex."

"You're not a killer because of that, Jason! You never have been."

The truth was, I had killed a man before. I don't know what his name was, and I don't care. He was a drug dealer who had come to our squat. He came in screaming and throwing things around. He hit my mother. He hit Catherine Todd right in her face. He beat her, much like the Joker beat me, just without the crow bar. He hit me too, but I was ready for it. I stabbed him in the face with a knife. He went down screaming as I stabbed him over and over in the chest. I didn't know then that he would die…I thought it would be like the cartoons I had seen. I expected him to just get up and run away….but he didn't. He lay there unmoving. I watched him until my mother woke up. She gasped and we left the squat and the man behind. I never regretted killing that man.

"You don't know me." I growled.

"I know you're our brother, and I know Batman raised you to do good. We don't kill, Jason."

I scoffed at them. "Whatever. You kill when you have to." I said bitterly.

Damian stood right in front of me and looked me in my eye.

"I knew it." He said. "Who have you killed, Todd?" He asked seriously.

I scowled at him angrily.

"Who was it?" he demanded.

There was no point in lying to him-to any of them. They were all detectives, they would know. Damian knew I had killed someone. He knew the look in a man's eyes…

"It was a long time ago, Damian. It doesn't matter anymore. The world is a better place with him out of it."

Dick's mouth dropped and Tim backed up a few steps. Damian didn't respond, but he backed out of my face.

I glanced at the clock-it was late.

"I'm going to bed, guys. I'll-I'll see you in the morning." I said as I pushed off the table and made my way up the stairs and through the clock into Bruce's study. My calves burned as I climbed the steps and made my way down the hall to my room. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, only to see I had left my shirt in the cave. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and took a quick shower. I sighed as I looked at my scarred flesh in the mirror. It looked terrible. I really was a zombie…I had just climbed out of my grave and already I was working on getting my body back. It was going to take time, but I would make it. I just hoped my strange, adopted family wouldn't hate me once I got back to where I was and went out on my own. I would be a hero. I would make a difference. I would rise up and do more for this city than Batman and Robin had ever done.

**I hope it's long enough for you! I worked hard on it. Now-in all seriousness, please tell me what you want to see happen in this story. PLEASE. It won't be good without your input, so leave a review with questions, comments, concerns, or requests. If you have a private request, PM me!**

**Smile at a stranger!**

**Love y'all!**


End file.
